Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I wanted to warm them. I wanted him to open his eyes and smile.
I realized I just wanted him . . . period.
“I’ll help you cook,” I offered, my voice shaking. I prayed he wouldn’t reject me again.
My breathing hitched when Hush’s finger moved and ghosted over mine. I didn’t dare look away from his face, just in case he wanted to look at me. Do anything other than scowl at me. But he kept his stare forward, eventually slipping his hand from mine. My hand felt empty. Cold.
“You stay with him. He needs you right now.” Hush’s voice was strained. He moved to the kitchen.
His departure left a sudden chill in the air.
I grabbed the bottle of bourbon and took a sip, feeling the liquor travel down my throat. I rarely drank, but right now I needed it. Closing my eyes, I laid my head back and continued running my hand through Cowboy’s hair. I drifted off to the sound of Hush cooking in the kitchen . . .
When I opened my eyes, the fire had been lit and Hush was standing before me holding a bowl. Cowboy was sitting up beside me, already eating. Hush moved across the room—as far away as he could get from us—and took his place by the fire.
“I fell asleep?”
Cowboy nodded. “Don’t worry, cher. You still looked fucking beautiful even when you were snoring.”
I rolled my eyes when he smiled with a mouth full of food. “Firstly, fuck off. And secondly, how’s your arm?”
“Still here.”
I looked across at Hush. He was silent, staring intently into the flames. They were as untouchable as he was.
Cowboy, for once, wasn’t smiling as he followed my gaze. In that moment, as he looked to Hush, he too appeared . . . broken. Just as Hush did as he grew more and more lost in the flames dancing in the hearth.
I had no idea what the hell was going on.
“Cowboy?” I reached out to touch his arm. Cowboy broke from whatever had filled his mind. He gave me a small smile. But then he looked back at Hush and sighed. I could hear the devastation in that one simple breath.
Without even knowing what haunted them both right then, I felt truly sad.
Hush curled in on himself, toward the fire. I tried to work out the enigma that was this man. “He doesn’t say much, does he?”
“It’s why people think he’s called Hush.”
I turned to Cowboy, intrigued. “It’s not?”
He sighed deeply . . . sadly, and then glanced at his best friend. “It’s not even close.”
I let this new piece of information hang in the air. When only the sound of the crackling fire could be heard, I took a spoonful of the food Hush had cooked. I closed my eyes when the flavors hit my tongue. “Hush.” I looked down. Gumbo. “This is delicious.”
Hush looked over at me but said nothing. He stared at his feet, and then abruptly stood from the chair. “I’m gonna go to bed.” I watched him go to the hallway that led to the stairs, as did Cowboy.
“He can cook,” I said, smiling at that little discovery about the perpetually closed-off man.
“His daddy taught him that recipe,” Cowboy said absently, eyes still on the empty hallway.
“He back in Louisiana?”
Cowboy tensed. “He ain’t with us anymore, cher.”
The smile slipped from my face. I didn’t dare ask anything else. The devastating expression on Cowboy’s face told me not to. Cowboy reached across me to take the bourbon. He downed several gulps before handing it back to me. I did the same.
“Careful, cher. You’ll get drunk.”
I ran my hand down my face, sighing. “I’m thinking that might not be such a bad thing tonight.”
“Then give the bottle the fuck this way, and I’ll join you on your journey to Trashedsville.”
An hour ticked by, and a second bottle of bourbon was opened. The room had started to tilt slightly. “I’m feeling tipsy,” I said, a high-pitched giggle slipping from my throat. I slammed my hand over my mouth, eyes wide. “What the hell was that fucking cheesy-ass sound that just slipped from my mouth?” I groaned. “Shoot me if it ever falls from my lips again.”
Cowboy leaned close. “You can’t help it, cher. It’s my exuberant presence. Makes all the bitches in a fifty-yard radius turn into giggling schoolgirls.”
I rolled my eyes, but then stared at Cowboy’s profile. Unable to control my words, I stated, “You’re real fucking handsome. I’ll give you that.”
He smiled, showing me his white teeth. “Merci, cher. From you, that’s a real fucking compliment.” His tongue wrapped around the French words, and I closed my eyes, replaying them like a lullaby in my head.
“Merci, cher,” I imitated, opening my eyes when his hand ran up my leg.
“You mocking my accent?” Cowboy thickened his accent, the everyday exotic words falling off his tongue like melted butter.